


The Day I Found Out

by lauawill



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauawill/pseuds/lauawill
Summary: Imagine, if you will, the ending of "Hunters" goes as originally planned, and Janeway and Chakotay's slow burn turns into a full-on inferno. How do the rest of the characters find out? Part 3 is my entry into the Cutthroat Fiction competition, round 2.





	The Day I Found Out

**"The Day I Found Out"**

**Part 1: B'Elanna**

The thing I remember most from the day I found out was that I was really, really tired.

We'd just finally gotten rid of the last traces of the Hirogen and I'd been pulling double shifts in the Holodeck to figure out how the hell they'd overridden all the fail-safes and protocols to put us all in mortal danger like that and then fix everything back the way it was (or better) and I was exhausted, just shattered, just ready to drop on the spot. But the Captain had said she wanted my report right away so when I was satisfied that everything was safe again I compiled all the data to a PADD and headed for the turbolift to the Bridge.

Harry was leaning against the back wall of the 'lift when I got in and for just a second I thought he was honest-to-Kahless asleep on his feet. When I called for the 'lift to take me to the Bridge, though, he yawned and said, "Morning, Torres," without even opening his eyes.

"It's actually 'Good night,' for me," I said.

"Me, too. Just finished my supper after spending Gamma shift in the Big Chair. " I nodded. We were all on a weird duty rotation because of the Hirogen and Chakotay had suggested Harry get some time in command while the senior staff was dispersed across all three shifts. "How about you?" Harry asked.

I slapped the PADD on my leg. "Wrapping up in the Holodeck."

Harry opened his eyes then. "It's safe again?"

"Should be. I just finished the last of the diagnostics on the repairs and upgrades."

"So maybe we can reopen Sandrine's soon?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why you couldn’t try it tonight. The Captain will have to approve it, obviously, but I'm about to take her the report, so…"

"You'll have to take it to her quarters instead of the Bridge, though. She's taking the day off." My mouth must have fallen open, because Harry shook his head and chuckled. "I know, right? When I went to relieve Commander Chakotay at the end of Beta shift, he dragged her out of her Ready Room and announced that they were both taking the next 36 hours off."

"Good for them," I said. "They've both been working too hard."

Harry nodded at the PADD in my hand. "So have you."

"So have all of us." I leaned against the wall of the 'lift next to Harry. "But most of the work is done now, so maybe we can all get some rest."

"From your lips to the Delta Quadrant's ears," Harry joked, and the lift slowed to a halt at his deck. "Go straight to quarters after you deliver the report, Torres," he said.

"I plan to."

"Good. Pool at Sandrine's later if I get everything set up? Best two of three?"

I smiled. "Delete that gigolo pig, and you're on."

Harry laughed. "Done. I'll call you and Tom when it's ready," he said, and dragged himself away from the wall and out of the lift and down the corridor.

I reordered the 'lift to the Captain's deck but just outside her door I stopped because if Chakotay had hauled her off the Bridge at the end of Beta shift that meant she was only nine hours or so into her mini-vacation and I didn't want to wake her if she was asleep. So I tapped my comm instead. "Computer, what's the current location of Captain Janeway?"

_"Captain Janeway is in her quarters."_

"Computer, is she asleep?"

_"Negative. Captain Janeway is awake and active."_

I deactivated the comm and pressed the Captain's door chime.

When I walked into her quarters I found that, sure, she was awake, but she was pretty far from active.

She was sitting at her desk with a cup of coffee in one hand and wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt, staring at a PADD and yawning. When she looked up I realized she had the craziest looking bedhead I'd ever seen, worse even than mine gets, just all ringlets and tangles and knots. And here I'd always thought she ran out of replicator rations every month because of the coffee but it must have been the massive amount of hair products she used to tame that mess. Who knew, huh?

Anyway, I approached her desk and handed her the PADD. "Sorry to bother you, Captain, but here's the final report on the Holodeck repairs."

She took the PADD with a puzzled expression. "It's no bother, Lieutenant. I did ask for the report."

I gestured back toward the corridor. "Yes, Captain, but I just ran into Harry. He told me you were off-shift for the next few hours. I didn't want to wake you."

She smiled. "I see. Thank you for your consideration, but you know my door is always open, Lieutenant."

"Of course, Captain," I said even though about six months into our journey in the Delta Quadrant Chakotay had informed us all that unless she'd specifically asked for something to be delivered there or it was a life-or-death emergency, no one, not even the senior staff, was to bother her in quarters on pain of the Maquis Mauler's terrifying left hook. And even though we'd all rolled our eyes at his protective streak we'd made a point of honoring her off-duty time as much as we could.

She absently scrolled through the report. "This looks like excellent work, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Captain."

She raised the coffee cup again and frowned into it suddenly and clucked her tongue. "We can travel faster than light but we can't invent a self-filling coffee cup. Pity." She stood up from her desk and gestured toward the replicator. "Can I get you anything?"

I just shook my head 'no' because I swear to Kahless I had no idea what to say because when she stood up I got a good look at the sweatshirt which wasn't just oversized, it was about _three sizes_ too big for her. The sleeves hung past her hands, the neck slipped off her shoulder, the bottom fell past her butt and the front of it…the front of that sweatshirt…

She got herself another cup of coffee and turned back to me. "So when can we reactivate the Holodeck, Lieutenant?"

I just stood there. "The what?"

She blinked at me. "The Holodeck, B'Elanna? When can we go back to the Holodeck?"

"Oh, I, uh…" I took a deep breath. "Harry's going to reactivate Sandrine's tonight, pending your approval."

She grinned. "Excellent news. I look forward to sparring with Tom at the pool table."

I choked down my laughter as she walked me toward the door of her quarters. "I'll be sure to let him know."

"If there's nothing else…?"

To this day I don't know what made me do it. I'd probably already been hanging around with Tom too long. "Just one thing." I stopped just shy of the door sensor and turned to her. "Speaking of sparring, I didn't know you were a boxer, Captain."

She frowned. "I'm not."

"Not according to your sweatshirt," I said, and beat a hasty retreat from her quarters.

The last thing I saw before the door slid closed was my Captain turning bright red as she stared down at the front of a three-sizes-too-big sweatshirt that said in huge blue letters, "Starfleet Academy Boxing Club Fighting Phoenixes. Property of Cadet 1st Class Chakotay."

And that's how I found out.

 

 **Part 2: Harry**  

The day I found out? Sure, I remember it.

We were a few months past the Hirogen incident and things were quiet. No hostile aliens, no dangerous anomalies, no systems breakdowns. It was going pretty well, all things considered…but we were bored.

That's right, bored. Life in the Delta Quadrant was feast or famine sometimes, you know? I'd be lying if I claimed we didn't relish the downtimes when no one was shooting at us, but if the inactivity went on long enough… Well, life inside those bulkheads could get pretty tedious after a while.

So, yeah. We were bored. Some of us had found things to do. Tom had the Holodeck, B'Elanna had her engines, which were always in need of tuning, at least as far as she was concerned. Tuvok had his orchids. The Doc was teaching himself opera. Seven was doing…well, whatever she did when she wasn’t working or complaining about B’Elanna. I was composing a new clarinet piece. Everybody had found something to pass the time.

The Commander had found a way to pass the time, and I guess it was also a way to keep us all occupied and out of each other's hair. Besides boxing, that is. He always had that. Anyway, in that quiet region of space he'd started leaving the ship a lot on side missions. Two- or three-day supply runs, negotiations for the use of recreation facilities or star charts, a couple of scouting missions to planets we wanted to know more about, that kind of thing. He always took someone with him. 

Tom joked that was because the Commander had such rotten luck with shuttles, but I think the real reason was that he and the Captain were putting together evaluations. We were back in contact with the Federation, after all, even though it wasn't as regular yet as we would've liked. I suspect the Captain was already thinking about how to justify field commissions and promotions in case the brass ever questioned her. So she sent the Commander on these little side missions with a junior officer or crewman, just to see how we'd react. 

When it was my turn, it was a routine scouting mission into an asteroid belt. Some of the asteroids were giving off just enough radiation to jumble our sensors at long range, and we thought there might be minable materials in the belt. The Commander told me to pack my bag and be ready at 0900 the next day for a three-day mission. 

Privately, I thought he should have taken Tom. Asteroid belts present a tricky navigation problem. I'm not saying the Commander wasn't a good pilot; he was. But if the nav sensors or shields were to go down in a belt as dense as that one was, we'd both be dead in a hurry. It just made me a little nervous. 

Okay, more than a little nervous.

I was up way too late the night before trying to figure out a way to improve the sensitivity of the shuttle's nav grid, and at 0700 the next morning, I was pretty sure I knew a way to do it. I downloaded my proposal to a PADD and headed for the Commander's quarters. 

There was no answer after when I rang for entry. I didn't think anything of it at the time. He's a morning person and I knew he'd be up, but maybe he was working out or in the galley. I asked the computer for his location and got the expected answer:  _“The Commander is in his quarters."_  

So I rang the chime again, and after a few seconds the door slid open. 

He was standing in the middle of the room in his trousers and turtleneck, not a hair out of place, a cup of coffee in one hand and his boots in the other. “Good morning, Ensign,“ he said. “What can I do for you on this fine Delta Quadrant day?" 

I smiled. “You're very chipper this morning, sir. Looking forward to today's getaway?" 

He chuckled and sat down to pull on his boots. “The getaway, and the homecoming, Harry." He winked at me. 

I wasn't at all sure what to make of that, so I held out the PADD. “I've been thinking about the navigational hazards of that asteroid belt, sir,” I said. “I think we can increase the sensitivity of our nav sensors with these modifications." 

He finished pulling on his boots and took the PADD. He read it over while he drank his coffee, and I took a minute to look around the room. 

I'd only been in his quarters a few times, and everything looked the same as it always had. Sand paintings on the walls, a patterned blanket on the back of his sofa, an incredibly tidy desk. His bathroom door was closed but the bedroom was open, and I could see his uniform jacket folded across the foot of the freshly made bed. Nothing unusual about any of that. 

After a minute or two, the Commander handed me the PADD. “This is good work, Ensign,“ he said. “Is this something you feel comfortable implementing  _en route_ , or do you want Nicoletti's prep team to get started now?" 

“Actually,“ I said, “I gave Sue the new specs when I dropped off my gear in the shuttle this morning. She's already laying down the code, but she hasn't uploaded anything to the shuttle yet, pending your approval. I hope you don't mind." 

The Commander stood up and smiled. “Not at all. Proactive thinking, Ensign. Well done." He headed for his bedroom. “Have you had breakfast, Harry? I want to stop off at the galley before we take off. I hear Neelix is doing wonderful things with waffles today." 

I chuckled. “You heard that, too?" 

He came out of the bedroom with his uniform jacket in his hand. “Naomi tipped us off this morning." 

I frowned as we headed out of his quarters and into the corridor. “'Us?'“ 

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second. “She commed the Captain a little while ago to give her the good news."

“Miss Wildman takes her duties as Captain's Assistant very seriously." 

“Indeed she does. And then Captain commed me." 

“I see. I heard it from Tom. He says the waffles are good if you can get past the color, and the syrup tastes as close to Vermont maple as he's ever had." 

“Sounds like the perfect last meal before we're on shuttle rations for a few days." 

“Sure does, Commander." As we were walking and talking, he shrugged into his uniform jacket. 

Or he  _tried_  to, anyway. 

He jammed his fist into the sleeve, and the follow-through from the Maquis Mauler's ruthless right hook popped the shoulder seam like the stitches weren’t even there. The entire sleeve tore away from the body of the jacket, slid down his outstretched arm, and fell to the deck. 

It wasn't his. It  _couldn't_  be his. That jacket, the very one I'd seen him pick up from the foot of his own bed, was about three sizes too small. 

Suddenly the closed bathroom door in his quarters, which I'd chalked up to his excessive neatness, and the words he’d used this morning, seemed to mean something entirely different. 

I stood there and watched him staring at the too-small jacket and the sleeve on the deck for a good five seconds, just trying to think of something to say. How do you say to your commanding officer, “Hey, is that a woman's jacket you picked up in your quarters, sir? Good for you, you old dog!" 

Tom might be able to get away with something like that, but not me. Not Harry Kim. 

He bent to pick up the sleeve and mumbled something about replicator files, and I finally realized something: I'd thought the jacket was his…because it was  _command red_.

Very few women on _Voyager_ wore command red, and even fewer would wear a jacket that tiny. In fact I could only think of one. 

My eyes just about popped out of my head, I was so shocked. 

I still hadn't found my voice when the  _Captain_  came flying around the corner with a much larger command red jacket in  _her_ hand and said, “Chakotay, you picked up the wrong …" 

She skidded to a halt, saw the ruined garment in his hands and the astonished look on my face, and knew immediately that I knew. 

It could have been perfectly innocent. It could have been that they'd…had an early meeting over coffee and she'd left her jacket…on his bed? 

Right. I couldn't even convince  _myself_  with that. 

It  _could_  have been innocent, but it plainly wasn't. 

And just as plainly, they weren't ready for anyone to know about it yet. 

I cleared my throat. “Do I need to look at the replicator files in your quarters again, Commander?" I asked, and to this day I'm proud of the way I said it with complete confidence, as if I were not, in fact, helping my commanding officers to cover up their early-morning wardrobe malfunction. “I know they've been acting up lately. Looks like you got the wrong size jacket this morning. I can fix that for you." 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced at the Captain before answering. “Thank you, Ensign. But it can wait until we get back."

“Of course." 

Without exchanging a word, the Captain and Commander traded garments. 

“Join us for breakfast, Captain?" I asked. 

She held up the two pieces of her ruined uniform. “I need to get a new jacket, and then I have a meeting with Commander Tuvok. Rain check?" 

“Of course, Captain. Will you be seeing us off at 0900?" 

“No, I'm afraid not." She gave the Commander a sidelong glance. “But I'll definitely be there for the homecoming." 

I almost laughed out loud. 

“Safe travels, gentlemen,“ she said, and sauntered back down the corridor. 

The Commander was tense all through breakfast – which really was as wonderful as Tom and Naomi had promised, once I got past the lime green waffles – and our preflight check list. I kept smiling to myself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

When it did, we were already well on our way toward the asteroid belt. The Commander put the nav system on autopilot and turned to me. “Harry…“ he began. “What happened this morning…“ 

I decided to put him out of his misery. “Nothing but a couple of routine replicator malfunctions, sir,“ I said. “They won't even make it into the Ops log." 

He scowled at me. “Not a word?" 

“My lips are sealed,“ I said. And then something, I'm sure some impertinent streak I picked up from Tom, made me keep talking. “But try to keep it down the night of the big homecoming," I said. “Your quarters aren't that far from mine, and I'm a growing boy. I need my sleep." 

For just a second, he looked like he was going to treat me to the same right hook that destroyed the Captain's jacket. Then he just leaned back in his chair and howled with laughter. 

And that's how I found out.

 

### 

This segment is also my entry in the Cutthroat Fiction competition, round 2, beta division. The parameters were for a commentary on the J/C relationship from another character's point of view. Enjoy.

**"The Day I Found Out"**

**Part 3: Tuvok**  

Before I begin, I would like to call attention to the fact that at no point subsequent to my realization that the Captain and Commander had begun an intimate personal relationship did I observe that their professional relationship had in any way been compromised. Nor was there any corresponding, demonstrable loss in efficiency, theirs or the crew's at large, in the years that followed this shift in their association. 

In fact, were I to compare their professional rapport before what I now believe to be the initial alteration in their personal status to their rapport  _after_  that alteration, I could say with some certainty that their professional behavior became, if anything, more professional. The conclusion I must draw from this observation is that, from that point forward, their more … ardent encounters, both personal and professional, were subsequently kept behind closed doors.  

And, rather fittingly, the notion of a “closed door,” both practical and symbolic, figures prominently in this anecdote. 

And yes, I remember the day that I found out. 

Some weeks after our encounter with the Silver Blood aliens, we came across a species called the Theoteurn. They were warp-capable, although not yet in possession of transporter technology, and friendly. Fascinated and moved by our story, these earnest, bipedal people were most willing to trade with us for supplies. Soon after our first contact with their orbital outpost and following a discussion with their planetary government, Lieutenant Torres had compiled a list of raw materials we required and goods to trade for them, Mister Neelix had a number of dubious nutritional requests, and Commander Chakotay had determined several likely surface locations for the crew's recreation, should the Captain authorize it and the Theoteurn approve. 

Their planetary leader, Gelleth, a tall, gray-haired male with the oversized eyes so characteristic of his species, was delighted to accommodate our requests … pending formal negotiations. 

It soon became clear that “formal negotiations” required the Captain's personal presence on the planet's surface, and that the process could last several days. It was a logical assumption, given that the negotiation merely for permission to orbit Teurn and the discussion about the geodistance of that orbit, a process that normally takes a matter of seconds, required 4.2 hours. 

The Captain assigned Lieutenant Torres and me to accompany her to meet with Gelleth. Commander Chakotay, fully aware that the Captain’s patience tends to wear thin quickly in the presence of excessive bureaucracy, offered to take her place. “I’ll come up with something, Kathryn,” he said, having drawn her to the periphery of the shuttle bay while Lieutenant Torres and I waited nearby. “I’ll tell them you’re ill or busy or –” 

She patted his arm. “Thank you, Chakotay, but Gelleth asked for the highest-ranking officer. For better or for worse, that’s me.” 

The Commander frowned. “I could come with you.” 

The Captain glanced in my direction. I quickly averted my gaze, reluctant to be caught eavesdropping. “Tuvok would have a fit.” 

“Tuvok doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Chakotay replied. “The Theoteurn have been peaceful and accommodating every step of the way.” 

“Accommodating,” the Captain echoed, “but awfully damn deliberate.” 

Commander Chakotay chuckled. “They’re going to drive you crazy, Kathryn.” 

“Very likely,” she acknowledged. “But we need the supplies.” 

“Are you sure you really need to stay planetside the whole time?” 

“It was Gelleth’s particular request. And since they don’t have transporter technology…” She sighed. “It won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll enjoy getting away for a few weeks.” 

“It better not take _that_ long,” he grumbled. “Or I’ll be the one going crazy.” 

“Poor baby,” the Captain said in a tone I had never heard from her before. It was with great difficulty that I did not turn to stare at them again. Instead, I glanced at Lieutenant Torres, who seemed to have developed an inordinate fascination with the texture of the deck plating between her feet. “You’ll live, I’m sure,” the Captain continued in that same tone – dry but amused and … affectionate. 

“You’ll call every night?” 

“You drew up the report-in schedule yourself.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

The Captain laughed. “I’ll see what I can do, Chakotay, but no promises. The walls have ears, you know.” 

She motioned for the Lieutenant and me to board the shuttle, and before I could examine my own sudden bewilderment, the Commander had opened the shuttlebay doors and sent us on our way to Teurn. 

Gelleth’s hospitality was unimpeachable. We were assigned a comfortable suite in the diplomatic compound – three well-appointed bedrooms that opened onto a common work room and living area. The living area had a replicator that the Captain soon discovered was capable of producing passable coffee, although we took our meals with Gelleth and his diplomatic corps in an opulent dining hall near our guest quarters. We were provided with entertainment in the form of video programming, reading material, and music after each day’s negotiations concluded. 

In short, we were provided everything we could possibly want or need on Teurm … except a successful and swift end to the interminable negotiations. 

The Theoteurn seemed to have an inexplicable number of traditions surrounding each type of negotiation. There were ritual words to say upon opening each day of talks, ritual seating arrangements, ritual foods to consume. It was grating, but the Captain was certain success was imminent and encouraged us to, in her words, “play along.”

Finally, on the fourth day, we achieved a breakthrough of sorts: Gelleth agreed to replenish our supply of mercassium in return for Gretchen Janeway’s caramel brownies recipe. 

“And there was much rejoicing on Qo’noS,” Lieutenant Torres grumbled after we had retired to our suite for the night. 

“At least you can mark mercassium off your list of minerals, B’Elanna,” the Captain said, sinking into a soft chair and removing her boots. 

Torres began to pace. “One down, twenty-three to go.” 

Before the Captain could criticize the display of impatience, someone rang for entry into the suite. I called for entry, and Gelleth stepped through the doorway with a tray laden with a large pitcher and three glasses. The Captain rose to meet him. “What can we do for you, Gelleth?” 

“Gentle travelers,” he began. “I’m aware that the ritual nature of Theoteurn negotiations is counter to your preferences. But I feel our successful negotiation today will be the first of many. Please partake of this traditional beverage to celebrate our breakthrough, and accept my thanks for your patience.” He carefully poured three glasses of a violently green beverage. “It’s called _thiva_ juice. Made from the finest, freshest fruit. A traditional beverage to seal our goodwill and mutual amity.” He served each of us a glass and stared at us expectantly. 

Sensing the momentous nature of the occasion, the Captain raised her glass. “To Gelleth and his diplomats,” she said and drank deeply. Torres and I followed suit. The drink was pleasantly cool and sweet. 

We all turned to Gelleth, expecting something more from this ritual, but the man merely nodded, smiled, and vacated the suite, leaving behind the tray and the half-full pitcher. 

“Well, that was weird,” Torres said, and resumed her pacing, glass in hand. 

“It’s tasty, though,” the Captain said. She took a long sip and cocked her head to one side, pondering the beverage in her glass. “Refreshing.” 

“I wonder what’s in it,” B’Elanna said. “Tom would love it. Tastes like pomegranate.” 

“Tastes more like cranberries to me.” The Captain poured herself another serving. “Whatever it is, I approve.” 

“How are our shipmates faring, Captain?” I asked, seating myself on the empty sofa. I sipped the beverage carefully, expecting hints of both pomegranate and cranberry. Instead, the beverage tasted to me like fresh _v’lia_ berries. 

The Captain returned to her chair. “Chakotay says everything’s fine and under control.” She turned to Lieutenant Torres. “Have you talked to Tom?” 

Torres stopped pacing for a moment and nodded. “He and Harry have Sandrine’s up and running again.” 

“I’m sorry you’re missing it.” 

“That’s not all I’m missing,” Torres growled, and downed the remainder of her beverage in one long gulp. “This planet is infuriating.”

“B’Elanna,” the Captain warned. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you aren’t just as frustrated as I am,” Torres snapped. The Captain narrowed her eyes but let the remark pass. Torres finished off her drink and slammed the empty glass on the table. “I’m going to go call Tom. Don’t wait up for me.” 

Startled, I watched her stalk into her bedroom and slam the door. I meant to remark upon the Lieutenant’s impulsiveness, but when I turned back to the Captain, she seemed to have not noticed the abrupt exit. Instead, she was once again pondering her beverage. “It can’t be pomegranate,” she murmured. “Chakotay hates pomegranate.” She took a long drink. “It’s definitely cranberries.” 

“Captain?” 

She glanced up at me, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Hmmm? Oh, I was just thinking that Chakotay would like this juice. But it doesn’t taste like pomegranate. It tastes like cranberries. He loves cranberries.” She drained her glass and rose from her chair. “Speaking of Chakotay, it’s time for my nightly check-in. See you in the morning Tuvok.” And with that, she strolled into her bedroom and closed the door – more softly than Lieutenant Torres had, but with similar haste. 

I considered my _thiva_ juice. 

It did not taste like cranberries or pomegranate. It tasted of _v’lia_ berries fresh from the bushes near my bondmate’s family home in the hills near ShiKahr. 

I sat back on the sofa and allowed my thoughts to wander back to the days following our first meeting. T’Pel and I had been so young then, so full of intellectual curiosity and rigor. I reached out along the tendrils of my bond with she who is my wife and sent my memories of our strolls among the hills near ShiKahr, those hours that had been so suffused with invigorating conversation, every moment a stimulating and rousing exchange of ideas and positions, every word ripe with arduous logic and penetrating insight. I sent these thoughts along the bond, reaching out toward my bondmate’s shimmering consciousness, which I sensed stretching back to me. We had nearly reached the instant of ultimate joining … 

When I heard a growl from behind B’Elanna’s closed door, a sound I could only describe as “rapturous.” 

The growl was immediately followed by the sounds of hushed conversation from behind the Captain’s closed door. Discomfited, I rose abruptly and retreated to my own bedroom. Alas, even two closed doors and two rooms away, I distinctly heard the words “thigh” and “hair” and “mouth,” and then a low, feminine moan I did not wish to hear from my Captain ever again. 

T’Pel broadcast a entreaty along the bond. 

I retired to the shuttlecraft for the night. 

I took the remaining _thiva_ juice with me. 

=/\= 

Two days later, negotiations thankfully complete, we returned to _Voyager_. We never spoke of the night in question again – not even the next morning, when all three of us sat through a silent breakfast, fatigued and distressed, unable to exchange anything but the politest of pleasantries, unwilling to meet each other’s eyes. 

Over the next two weeks, as goods were transferred between the ship and the surface, most of the crew eventually enjoyed shore leave on Teurn. Lieutenant Torres and I politely declined. The Captain and Commander joined the final leave rotation, which left me in command for three days – three thankfully uneventful days in which I meditated during every available off-duty moment, still unsettled by the time I had spent on Teurn. 

Mere hours after their return to the ship, Commander Chakotay summoned me to his quarters, a very unusual request. Curious, I reported at the appointed time. The Commander was just emerging from his bedroom when I entered. “Ah, thanks for coming, Tuvok.”  He greeted me with a smile. “Are you looking forward to getting back to your real job?” 

“Indeed,” I replied. “May I ask the reason for this summons?” 

“The Captain brought back a gift for you,” he said. “She wanted to give it to you herself, but B’Elanna just called her down to Engineering. So she said I could have the honors.” He darted into his bedroom and retrieved a sparkling, cut-glass bottle … filled with a violently green liquid. He thrust the bottle into my unwilling hands. “Kathryn says you’ll know what to do with it.” 

“Sir, I do not wish to be rude, but –” 

The Commander laughed. “Just take it, Tuvok. And chalk it up to Kathryn’s weird sense of humor.” 

“Yes, sir,” I sighed. And then, belatedly, “Thank you.” 

“No, Tuvok,” he said. “Thank _you_. For your discretion.” 

Our eyes met. I nodded. Upon turning to leave his quarters, I glanced into his bedroom. On the bedside table I spied two empty juice glasses, one with a distinct smear of the Captain’s preferred shade of lipstick. 

And that is how I found out.

###

 

 


End file.
